Didn't Need It After All
by CassanderRoshack
Summary: Sherlock has been away for two years. Suddenly John gets a text from a mysterious woman who claims to have a message for him. He goes to the meeting place, his only last hope to finding out why Sherlock killed himself or if he is in fact really dead. Will John find the answers to his questions and regain what he's lost? (Rated M for harsh language, drinking and hot kiss.)


Is this Doctor John Watson? -R

Yes, who this is? -JW

My name is Cassander Roshack. I have a message to give you that is of the utmost importance. -R

Alright. -JW

From Sherlock Holmes:  
"I'll be home soon. Thank you for believing in me."  
I can't tell you anymore unless in person. -R

Is this some king of joke? That's cruel. -JW

No. He is alive. I have proof. -R

Fine, but I swear to god if this is a joke. I'm tired of you people thinking it's funny to pretend to be a dead man. -JW

This is no laughing matter. If you will meet me at the café you and Sherlock first attended, I will show you this proof. It's a public place, Doctor. -R

Fine. -JW

Cassander set the phone down and ordered two glasses of wine- before settling on just having the bottle waiting on John to arrive. John sighed, putting on his coat and making his way to the café. He sniffed, trying to keep himself together. He'd never stopped hoping Sherlock was still alive, even if it drove him slightly mad. She saw him coming down the street and sighed quietly, picking up her phone once again.

Don't look so worried. I'm in the corner. I've ordered you a glass of wine. I've been sent by Sherlock. Calm yourself or you'll attract attention I can't afford. -R

John entered the café, looking around as he went. He honestly had no idea who he was looking for when his eyes scanned across the shop. He sniffed and peered at his phone. Cassander smiled softly as he came toward her. Her short hair poked in many different directions and she was American. "Hello Doctor Watson. I've been sent here by Sherlock as I said. He ordered me to answer any questions you might have. Including the ones he doesn't want me to answer if you understand me."

John nodded, sitting down and shifting uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how to approach this. He had so many questions. "Where is he?" Good enough start, he thought grabbing his wine and downing it in one gulp. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, "He is currently on a train toward Egypt. There are two more for us to get rid of. Do you understand what happened that day?" She offered the bottle to him. John allowed her to pour him some more wine, topping off his glass. "No. He just made me watch… as he…" He muttered softly. He wildly gestured to the air as if she had been there.

She gave him a sad smile, "Then I will tell you that truth since no one else has. That day, Jim Moriarty had Sherlock come to the rooftop. He was planning a large final for his stupid game. To make sure Sherlock couldn't walk away, he put men on each person Sherlock cared about. Lestrade had a mole in the office. You had a sniper trained on you and Mrs. Hudson had a repairman over. They were all going to kill each of you if Sherlock didn't jump." She paused sipped at her wine. "Sherlock was able to outsmart Moriarty but when he was cornered… he shot himself. Thus making Sherlock have to go to plan B."

"So he jumped. But… why did he make me… watch?" He asked quietly, jaw setting hard. He thought about his nightmares. He wanted this to be over. He wanted this to have never happened. He'd continued to post to the blog after Sherlock's… 'death', but he couldn't take the comments. He couldn't take the people saying Sherlock was right all along. He'd written about the nightmares and the mysteries, of the ever obscure, histrionic man that was Sherlock Holmes. "How could he do that?" He muttered, not really to the woman next to him.

Cassander cocked her head to the side, "He enlisted the help of Molly Hooper. Made a fake body with a mold of his face to be used on it. He had you stand there now you would believe he was dead. He jumped into the back of a garbage truck around the corner. Once the sniper saw the look on your face, confirming the death of Sherlock Holmes… you were no longer in danger." She allowed herself to reach across the table and take his hand. "He was trying to protect you. If you had moved to even stop him, the sniper would have killed you. He… He's missed you, John. I've been making sure he stayed alive. I was sent to him by Greg Lestrade from Interpol not long after Sherlock supposed death. I've been working by his side ever since. He… did love you. Even if you may not believe you "

John shook his head. This was so much to take in, too much to take in. He nearly growled, staring at the table. "Why didn't he call me sooner? Why didn't he contact me? It's been almost two bloody years!" He hissed darkly. She sighed, "We've only got two more men to kill and he'll be back. He wanted to be here himself but he couldn't take the chance of endangering you again. He asked me to say that he is incredibly sorry… for everything." She let go of his hand and patted it. "I talked him into letting me come instead. He did let you know that he was alive a few times. At least he tried." She sighed, "You would not totally understand what he has gone through as we would not understand what you've gone through."

"What do you mean he tried? He's been completely AWOL since that damn jump!" He said, raising his voice. He wanted to lunge at her and to kill her. Why was she telling him this? This was only making him angry. Showing him that he hadn't been crazy, that he wasn't crazy. Cassander kept calm and laughed lightly, "He has tried to contact you sixteen different times. Seven I have personally taken part of. He left a scarf on the gravestone, a man came up to you at work and thanked you, a woman put a note in your pocket that said keep believing, another said to not to give up, another handed you a large umbrella, a few brought you milk. One handed you a large case with a note in the center saying 'I'm alive!' I witnessed him writing that!" She looked at him. "He even threw his phone on his on the roof now you would at LEAST look at it and see that he tried to show you Moriarty's confession. He did all of this for you!"

"How was I supposed to know that wasn't just things from fans… or nutters… There were so many. They would come by the flat, ask for stories, made shirts…" He sniffed. "They said 'I believe in Sherlock Holmes." She stopped and her lids lowered slightly, "You were right John. He's been taking apart Moriarty's ring to make sure it'll be safe. He has three more, John. Just stay stronger a little longer. The third will be the final score to settle. You'll have your Sherlock back soon."

"I thought you said it was two." John looked at her curiously. Cassander tried to smile again, "There is two. The third is someone close to him that we haven't figured out yet. Soon as we do. He'll be home to you. I won't let anything happen. I've worked for Sherlock Holmes for almost two years as his personal assistant. He's a dick… But we've both seen the inside." John snorted, "He isn't the most cooperative." He sipped his wine.

"No, I remember when we were in Budapest." She sighed, "I was posted as a sniper across town he throws himself in the middle of my shot. I comlinked him to tell him to move his ass and what does he do? Get himself nearly shot by the other person. I ended up having to waste half a clip of ammo on the people around him." She raised her glass. "To Sherlock, the most annoyingly lovable prat there ever was." John looked down, smiling sadly. "Yeah, he never really thinks about himself does he?"

She shook her head, "No. Sherlock has a way of making you think he does only care about himself but... He always talked about you. When he was playing violin at three in the morning… such a sad song. I came out to ask him once why he did it. Found him all teared up and he said, "Ms. Roshack, if you ever find someone like I did and ever had to kill yourself for him…. Would you do it?" I couldn't give him an answer. He never said who he was talking about but I figured out after a while it was you. Mind you, I was a little jealous."

John smiled, wiping a tear that had gotten away like it had never happened. Alright maybe he... maybe he wasn't as angry as... "I wish he'd come home soon…It's been too long." Something flashed across her face and suddenly a phone rang. She snapped it out of her pocket and read it over. "There is only one now. Plus the unknown." She flipped the lid shut. "He'll be home within a week. Tops." Cassander held his hand again. "You've been so brave, John."

"I think knowing you were alive helped him stay alive himself. No matter when he got hurt he'd always start muttering about how John would kill him for this." She let go and leaned back, finishing her wine. "Thank you, Cassander." He smiled, wishing Sherlock would text him, but had no hopes. "And he's right, I should kill him, several times over for this." She chuckled and sighed, "John… don't hate him too much. You kept him going. He got all those texts you sent to his phone. He'd get this small smile then he'd sigh and rub his temples." She sat up, placing the glass on the table. "John, go home. In about four days he should be home. If not seven."

John smiled, the wine making him a little less… angry. "Thank you, really." Cassander smiled at him as he stood. "No problem. I hope we get to see each other in the future, John. He'll need you when he gets home… Just as much as you'll need him." She stood too and pulled on a baseball cap. "Good luck out there. Never know who is out to get you."

((Play I'm Coming Home by Skylar Grey))

Sherlock, five days later, sent a text to John for the first time in two years. His eyes had been tired as he drove back to England from a very busy Turkish city. The ferry ride was even worse. Boring.  
He sent the text before climbing the stairs and swinging the flat's door open.

Put the kettle on. I'm coming home. -SH

John smiled, bouncing nervously on the balls of his heels. He'd put the kettle on, though left the water to cool, forgetting it completely. "Sherlock!" He said, dropping his cup on the floor and rushing over to him. He grabbed the man by his coat lapels, pulling him close and kissed him passionately. Sherlock was startled it but smiled into a bit and wrapped his arms around him. He kissed him happily, more emotion than he'd showed in years, and let his passion he'd locked in the back of his mind for all those years soar as well. The once consulting detective pulled back, "That was a very interesting greeting." He muttered to John softly. Eyes flickering between both of John's.

"I wouldn't have… handled it that well if it wasn't for your friend…. God, Sherlock Holmes has friends." He teased, kissing Sherlock between sentences. Sherlock smiled and then it slackened. "Only one… and I doubt I can call him a friend anymore." Sherlock felt the cloud that had been over him for nearly two years lift. He swallowed at the memory of Cassander. "I'm so glad you're here." John said. "Please-Please don't leave again."

Sherlock paused, before hugged him tightly. Having a feeling that that was the more... proper, response. "Never, but we do have to pay our respects to someone." John looked up at him, "Who?" He sighed softly. "Ms. Roshack. She's nearby." As almost an afterthought, he looked around, "You kept everything the same?" John nodded, "Oh… Well yes, I couldn't bring myself to change anything." Sherlock smiled softly, "Come on then." John took his hand, allowing him to be led.

The taller gestured to it with one hand. "This… woman saved my life countless times while I was away. In the end, she did something I wasn't willing to do." The name Cassander Roshack was written in black letters. A date of birth and death wasn't put on the stone. Just a hand carving a 'A Friend' made with a key at the bottom. "But… But I just saw her the other day!" He shook his head in disbelief.

Sherlock sighed sadly, "Lestrade sent her to find me. She was an Interpol officer and gave up everything to help me on my mission. Cassander was a trained sniper ironically. She helped me dismantle the entire ring until we were after the final person. I discovered it was her." He shook his head. "Six days ago, I had put the third from last man in prison for good. The second was taken out by her bullet give days ago. Then four days ago… something happened."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand, leaning into him as he waited for the other man to continue. Sherlock wrapped his arm around him, slightly wrapping him in his coat since he hadn't taken his. "When it came down to it. On a rooftop ironically, she pulled a gun. I could tell she didn't want to kill me. After we talked she turned away from me holding up her gun and dropping it. She looked back at me and said, "Better hurry up and get home to John. You'll need each other. Good luck." Before she turned back around and took a bullet in the heart by another sniper who was set up to kill her if she didn't kill me." He shook his head. "Idiotic girl… We could have found another way."

"Sound like someone? Taking your life to safe another's, even if it hurts them?" He said. Sherlock smirked, "Yes. I have been told I was a horrid influence." He squeezed him slightly to his side in a hug. Clearing his throat he turned away. "She was a good friend, one that I am… upset to see go. Mr. Roshack is the main reason I am alive and I hadn't gotten to pay my respects yet. I thought you'd like to know where her resting place was."

"Thank you for bringing me here, Sherlock. I'm sorry about … Cassander's death." He said quietly. The consulting detective sniffed and hugged him, "I wish you could have known her. What do you mean you saw her a few days ago?" John furrowed his eyebrows, "She texted me. Explained to me you weren't dead. That's how I knew you were coming. It's why I didn't try to kill you."

He looked taken aback by this. "She what? That…" Sherlock thought a moment, she had disappeared for some time, saying she was scouting. John shrugged, "She was rather nice." This time, Sherlock wrinkled his eyebrows before laughing. "Cassander… That stupid girl. She was trying to make up her mind about killing me. Something you said must have changed her mind." He took his hand again. "Dinner?" John grinned, "Please." He said, kissing Sherlock chastely.

Off to the side, a woman watched them walk away. She smirked and pulled down her baseball cap over her spikey red hair and walked away. "Guess you didn't need luck after all." Sherlock thought he heard a noise and looked around but a rabbit scampered across the way. Cassander was happy, wherever she may be.


End file.
